


say it once before I go (even if it's a lie)

by champagne_for_breakfast



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Break Up, Getting Back Together, Grantaire needs a hug, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, M/M, Misunderstandings, Not an actual Break Up, Sad with a Happy Ending, enjolras is a workaholic, is it getting back together if they dont actually break up, they are a mess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:35:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24880087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/champagne_for_breakfast/pseuds/champagne_for_breakfast
Summary: "-jolras?" He hears but his voice doesn't cooperate. He can't form words. "Enj? You there?"He manages a small whimper. There is silence on the other side of the line."Enjolras? Are you ok?" Combeferre sounds alarmed. In the background he can hear Courfeyrac, then he can hear him louder. Speaker phone, then. "Enj?""He's gone," leaves his lips without his consent. His voice breaking on the last word.
Relationships: Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables)
Comments: 21
Kudos: 185





	say it once before I go (even if it's a lie)

**Author's Note:**

> This was heavily inspired by the song "even if it's a lie" by Matt Maltese. I had this one scene stuck in my head every time I listened to this song. So I would suggest listening to the song, but you don't have to to get this story.

Enjolras can’t believe his luck. He’s finally home, after way too long. The last hour of his train journey took forever, but he can’t wait to see Grantaire, kiss him, surprise him with take out and some nice wine.

It’s gonna be such an amazing evening.

He’s so happy, he could hug every single person.

The huge case the law firm was working on is finally over, the last 48 hours that he spent in Berlin attending conferences are finally over and it is finally time to come home.

He doesn’t know how long it’s been since he has been home long enough to sleep in his own bed. He has been stressed for the last month at least.

It hits him like a brick how long he hasn’t seen Grantaire - he said goodbye on Friday, kissed his cheek, he’s sure of that. Before he left for Berlin. But he had only been home for one hour between the end of the trial and leaving for his train.

And before that - it has been a while. So he can’t wait to hug and kiss Grantaire, as soon as he comes through the door.

The thought makes him halt in his steps, in the middle of the sidewalk, angry Parisians walking past, muttering about him. He decides to pick up their favorite take out food and then go home as fast as possible.

It takes him maybe 15 minutes all in all until he can finally fit his keys into the door - he is finally home.

He opens the door, grin wide on his lips, eyes sparkling with happiness.

But it’s quiet. It never is - usually Grantaire has music on when he’s drawing. Or the TV running when he’s cooking. When neither is on, he’s usually the one making noise - humming, singing, talking on the phone.

But there is nothing. Only silence greets him.

The entrance hallway is dark, it is past 7pm after all. Enjolras maneuvers the take out bag into his right hand, the key still in the door. He flicks on the lights with his left hand.

He wants to call out a “hello?”, but the word dies in his throat when he sees his apartment. The hallway is empty. No shoes lying around, no jackets hanging on the coat rack. The pictures on the walls are gone. The little dresser and mirror right next to the door aren’t there anymore. The little glass bowl where they keep their keys is sitting on the floor, right next to the door, nothing in there.

“Grantaire?” he calls nervously.

He has enough of his mind left to walk towards the kitchen. All the walls are bare, no trace of anyone. In the kitchen, he puts the take out bag onto the table. The kitchen looks different with no bowls and plates and cutlery on various surfaces and in the sink. There isn’t even a used glass or anything.

It’s suddenly hard to breathe.

His red hoodie, which Grantaire had stolen when he first moved in with Enjolras, is draped over one of the chairs at the table. When he touches it, it is cold. Not worn in a while.

Enjolras is still wearing Grantaire’s green hoodie right now - he took it with him to Berlin, to have a piece of home with him. It suddenly feels rough against his skin.

Heavily, he lets himself fall against the wall. There is not enough air in the world for Enjolras to breathe.

 _This can’t be happening_ , he thinks.

His phone is in his hand before his mind can catch up. But that's not Grantaire's number he's dialing.

 _When in crisis, call Ferre_ , his mind supplies and he can't stop his fingers.

It's like he's not really there, like that's not his body, not his apartment. He's in a fucking nightmare.

"-jolras?" He hears but his voice doesn't cooperate. He can't form words. "Enj? You there?"

He manages a small whimper. There is silence on the other side of the line.

"Enjolras? Are you ok?" Combeferre sounds alarmed. In the background he can hear Courfeyrac, then he can hear him louder. Speaker phone, then. "Enj?"

"He's _gone_ ," leaves his lips without his consent. His voice breaking on the last word.

He's walking, he belatedly realizes, towards the bathroom. On his way he checks every room he comes across. Empty. No sketchbooks, no canvasses. Not even a single pencil or paintbrush, anywhere.

"Enjolras, who's gone? What are you talking about?" It's Combeferre's mom voice. The one he uses as a doctor, to calm his patients, get some information through to them. But Enjolras doesn't register the words nor their meaning.

He realizes he's been repeating those two words. " _He's gone_."

He makes it to the bathroom - usually super messy, various products strewn around. There's nothing. Empty spaces where shampoo and shower gel had been. His toothbrush is gone. _Everything is gone_.

Another whimper. A sob making its way out of his mouth. Another sob shaking his body. He looks up from his single toothbrush lying on the sink - and right into the mirror.

Tears are streaming down his face, but again, it's like he isn't there. He falls to his knees, his hands letting go of his phone.

In a matter of seconds, he's on the floor, grabbing his arms in a desperate clutch, trying to make sense of this situation. Tears fall onto the ground.

He can hear the sound of keys over the phone, one curse after the other leaving Combeferre's lips. "Courf, call the others!", he yells, but it sounds distant to Enjolras, lying on his floor, heart breaking and _breaking and it hurts_ -

"Enj, you still there?" It's so distant, _but it's Ferre_ \- he has to answer. He wants to nod, but he can't. He's crying and sobbing and he needs this all to be over.

"Hold on, Enj, we'll be there soon." He hears Courfeyrac's voice. It's so soothing, and he _hurts_. They shouldn't have to deal with this, it's his own fault, his problem, his nightmare.

 _Why didn’t he see it coming_.

\--

It's not long before his front door slams open, banging against the wall.

His tears have stopped, but he's lying on the ground still. His phone's vibrating from time to time, but he doesn't have the energy to pick it up. His hands are still gripping his arms way too tight. His knees drawn to his chest.

It's Courfeyrac's voice he hears first. "Fucking _hell_." It carries in the empty hallway he had just stepped into.

"Did he just-?" Combeferre's voice sounds closer, but still far away. Maybe it's because Enjolras is still too far removed from what is happening.

"Leave? It seems so?" There's a short pause. Then. "I'll call 'Ponine and try to find out where he went."

Another pause. "Did he say something to you?"

"You think he planned this?"

"Must have. Enj wasn't here over the weekend. Some conference, I think."

“No." Hesitation. "He didn't say anything."

His phone lights up. It keeps lying on the floor. The screen seems cracked from when he dropped it. But fuck if he cares.

"Fuck", that's definitely Combeferre - and those are his shoes. Enjolras doesn't look up, can't move a muscle.

"'Ponine? Hey, it's Courf." Silence. "Do you know-" The sound of a door closing softly, far, far away from where Enjolras is at - mentally and physically.

Combeferre kneels down, his face appearing in Enjolras' field of vision. His voice is soft when he starts talking. "Hey, Enj."

He looks at Enjolras for a long time. Trying to wait for a reaction, probably. Courfeyrac's voice is soft and muffled, he can't make out any words anymore.

"Can I touch you?" Combeferre asks softly. Enjolras doesn't nod, but he doesn't resist either, as Combeferre's hand comes closer.

His hands are loosened from his arms, then he is pulled up to sit, his back leaning against the shower wall. Combeferre's hands close around his face. His eyes are searching his face.

"Enj, please talk to me."

New tears are threatening to fall, so he just closes his eyes and lets his head fall back. With a dull thud it lands against the shower wall. And then he's sobbing again.

Combeferre usually isn't one for physical comfort, but it feels nice when he is engulfed in his best friend's arms.

It's grounding in a way nothing else is right now. At least he feels like he is actually himself again. Which is to be determined if that is a good thing or not.

Tears are still falling and he is sobbing. Broken words crossing his lips. "He just _left_."

"I know," Combeferre says, his voice thin. "Courf is trying to find him. It's going to be okay."

Enjolras nods, though it is hard to believe.

"Is it okay to get up? We can get you to the couch?"

Again, he nods. He's apparently lighter than he thought. Or Combeferre is stronger than he thought before, because Combeferre just picks him up like he weighs nothing.

A couple seconds later he's on the couch, Combeferre next to him, Courfeyrac's voice louder, but he still can't make anything out.

He hears Combeferre say something, but nothing registers in his mind. At least his voice is soothing, his hands drawing circles on his arms.

Enjolras' mind is trying to focus on the empty walls around him. There used to be pictures there, but now the frames are empty. Sketches littered every surface last Friday, but they're gone. Everything is sterile and like no one has ever lived here. What it would look like if Enjolras had lived here on his own these past 5 years.

The door to the living rooms flies open as Courfeyrac stumbles in.

Combeferre immediately stops talking, but Enjolras is staring at a single picture frame on the shelf. It is black and gold and not even all that interesting - _except_.

Except it has a picture of him and R. Left behind. A small note is shoved into one corner of the frame, folded, smeared with ink, paint dried on it.

Courfeyrac's voice seems way too loud. "Found him, he's at 'Ponine's place."

His heart gives a painful tug in his chest. But Enjolras gets up. That note in the corner. That's new. Without listening to either Combeferre or Courfeyrac talking, he walks to the offending object.

"He would like to talk to you," Courfeyrac says in a low voice, as if he was afraid of Enjoras' reaction. “He… sounded rough.”

He plucks the paper from the frame. He can feel both of his friends watching him as he unfolds it. His back turned to them, so they can’t see his face.

It is Grantaire’s awful handwriting. He would recognize it anywhere.

The note isn’t long, but his brain can’t make sense of it.

_I’m going darling, I’ll step lightly,_

_live on as if you still love me,_

_just say it one more time, even if it’s a lie_

He can feel the tears burning his face as they roll down his cheeks. Hot and heavy, falling to the ground. Sobs break from his throat and draw Combeferre and Courfeyrac closer to him.

“Enj?” Courfeyrac asks, looking around him at the note. “Oh, honey.”

“You don’t have to talk to him tonight, Enj,” Combeferre says as soon as he has read the note over Enjolras’ shoulder. “Maybe you should talk about it tomorrow.”

Enjolras can’t comprehend any of it, but he knows that this must be a misunderstanding. He needs to fix this. “I love him,” he says, hands shaking terribly. “ _I love him_.”

It sounds like a lie to his ears, especially with the note in his hands, but in his heart he knows that it is the truth. Has always been, since Grantaire first stepped into that back room in the Musain, spouting criticism of Enjolras’ idealism and beliefs.

One look thrown Courfeyrac’s way is enough to get both of his best friends in motion. Combeferre grabs the car keys, as Courfeyrac takes Enjolras’ hand and pulls him out the door. “Let’s go talk to him.”

\--

The car ride to Eponine’s place is almost silent. The only sound being the car radio, playing some obscure, sad love song. Piano notes floating through the air, heavy with feelings too great to express in a song.

It’s all a blur to Enjolras. And he still hasn’t processed anything when they actually arrive at Eponine’s. It’s pure luck he’s not still crying.

But the note is still clutched in his hand. A reminder of what he is losing if he doesn’t go up to that apartment and talks to Grantaire.

He hasn’t even registered that the car is standing, parked around the corner from Eponine’s when Courfeyrac opens his door, guiding him out of the car.

He takes a deep breath, puts the note into the pocket of his jeans and walks around the corner and then takes the steps up to Eponine’s front door two at a time. He can’t lose the best thing in his life.

Courfeyrac and Combeferre are right behind him when he knocks on the door. His hand is shaking, but it’s not noticeable when he has it clenched in fist. Determination washes over him as steps approach the door.

Eponine looks rough, dark circles under her eyes, her hair tangled. Enjolras immediately knows that he should apologize to her as well once he has talked to Grantaire. She probably took on most of what Grantaire was feeling in the past weeks.

“Can I-” he starts, but Eponine just opens the door wider, pointing towards her bedroom.

“He’s in there. I thought you might want some privacy to talk about it.” She says. Then she turns to Combeferre and Courfeyrac. “You want some tea? Coffee? Tequila?”

Enjolras hears a startled laugh coming from Courfeyrac, but he is already on his way to her bedroom. He can’t let this stand between him and Grantaire any longer.

For a second he considers just opening the door, but he knows better. His hand is raised, ready to knock, but something holds him back. What if this is for the best? What if he fucks up again? How long can they keep going if they just hurt each other?

It almost makes him cry again, but he can’t do that. Not here, not now. He needs to be strong. So he knocks.

And waits.

And waits.

And waits.

It feels like an eternity until Grantaire opens the door. If Enjolras thought Eponine looked rough, then Grantaire looked like he had died multiple times and come back from that. Or rather, if he described Grantaire as looking rough, Eponine looked like a rose garden.

“Fuck,” slips out without him really meaning to. “I’m _so sorry_.”

Grantaire smiles in that special way only he can. Somehow genuine, but at the same time looking like he is about to say something self-deprecating.

It brings tears to Enjolras’ eyes to see him like this. And like before he can’t stop the tears, doesn’t even consciously realize that he’s crying. “I love you and _I’m so fucking sorry_.”

Something that Enjolras hadn’t deemed possible happens then - Grantaire hugs him tight. Grantaire buries his face in the crook of his neck and he can feel hot tears meeting his skin there.

“You weren’t home,” is whispered into his collarbone. “Never home. Always at work. You weren’t even at the meetings the last few weeks.”

“I’m so sorry, I love you so much, please don’t leave me,” he repeats, his voice tiny, shaky, full of tears.

“I thought…” Grantaire stops. Takes a breath. “...thought you had found someone else. Or didn’t want me around anymore.” A broken sob accompanies that last word and it makes Enjolras’ heart break all over again.

“No, R, I always want you around.” Enjolras grabs Grantaire’s face, pulls him back from the tight hug so he can look into his eyes. “I only ever want you. You are the best thing in my life. I don’t want to lose you, ever. You are the one to push away all of my doubts I had about dating and love and… and _I love you_.”

He tries to wipe away Grantaire’s tears with his thumbs, but there are still so many. And he can’t really see through his tears either.

“Please give me another chance. Please come back home, I love you so much.” He sounds like a broken record but he can’t stop saying it, fearing that it’ll be forgotten as soon as he stops. “I want to promise to you that it will never happen again, I do-”

“But you can’t,” Grantaire finishes for him. “I know you and I know how you are when it comes to your work.” He smiles sadly. Looks down, then back up, locking eyes with Enjolras again. “I guess, I should have said something sooner, huh?”

A sob breaks from Enjolras’ throat. “I’m so sorry.”

“We’ll work this out, won’t we?” Grantaire smiles that sad smile again and Enjolras wants to kiss it away. It has not right to be on his face. Grantaire should be happy, all the time. Enjolras wants to be the one to make him happy.

“I promise,” he whispers into the space between them.

“I promise, as well,” Grantaire replies. He pulls Enjolras back into a hug, pressing a kiss to his temple. “I promise.”

They stand there for what feels like an eternity - in each others’ arms, just existing.

“Are you wearing my hoodie?” is whispered directly into his ear after what feels like hours but is probably just five minutes. It’s so unexpected that it startles a laugh out of Enjolras.

And he knows, they will fight again and he might have to apologize to his whole friend group more than once, but they will be alright. They will work this out. And that is not a lie.

**Author's Note:**

> I made myself cry with this. :(
> 
> toss a coin to your witcher, but coin means comments and kudos and your witcher is actually just your sleep-deprived, emotionally stunted author in her pyjamas
> 
> follow me on tumblr @pansexual-space-princess or on twitter @beepbeepmadds


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